Matched Pt. 03

He felt hollow. Two weeks had passed and he was still clutching at straws. For the first week of his disappearance Elliot had been working closely with the police. Then he got fed up with their slow process and took over himself. The biggest step forward had been when The Parkers had been sighted five days earlier in Greenwich. Although Damien was not with them, the image of them brought him hope. He had spent days in Greenwich after that searching on foot until eventually he came back defeated. It was then that Harvey had suggested using the mapping systems and social media accounts from Matched to help the search.

He shared the announcement of Damien's disappearance and was amazed by the response. So many people seemed to recognise Damien as the handsome heart broken bachelor from the hacking, who they had followed avidly in the media as he reunited with his lover and then got engaged. They got out the word and Elliot was inundated with support, sightings and advice.

"Elliot-" Ella asked again but he cut her off.

"No I don't want to stop. I'm close, I know I'm close, I can feel it."

He had been sent a link by one helpful Facebook follower about a Christian therapy clinic. The Facebook friend told him about the history of the place, he sent videos of the protests, the homophobic posts they posted online, and most importantly the address.

"This place is in Greenwich," he whispered and Ella put down the plate and sat beside him.

"What is it?" She asked.

"It's this clinic, but look they talk about aversion therapies to smoking, drinking and..."

"Oh god," Ella said appalled. "You don't think?"

"I don't know. But it's worth checking out, I have this feeling."

Elliot stood up and grabbed his coat, moving towards the front door.

"You can't mean to go now?" Ella called after him, "it's 10 o'clock at night Elliot!"

"I need to go, I can't sleep anyway."

"But it will be closed!"

"If Damien's there I'll find him," he said defiantly, pulling open the door.

It was torrential rain, the kind that seemed to blow from every direction, howling and crying, whipping his hair and plastering it to his face. He tightened his hood and walked out into the night, he stepped onto the street and saw a dark figure ahead of him coming in his direction. He hesitated, the wind and rain lashed his face so hard he winced to try and make him out. An odd anticipation fired up in his chest, almost as if...

The figure staggered into a wall and wretched. Perhaps he was drunk, either way they needed help. He approached warily.

"Hey, are you okay?" He called. As he came closer he saw the figures hood had fallen back, dark black hair plastered to his face, an incredibly pale face. His chest seemed to lurch right out from him, frozen in that second of time before the dark eyes met his.

"Elliot," Damien said in a weak, hoarse voice, his mouth making a small smile before he collapsed, Elliot leaping forward to catch him.

Chapter 9 - Bargains

Damien

*Earlier that day*

His cries of pain were muffled by the leather strap forced between his teeth, his head, wrists and feet held tightly in place as he received high voltage shocks that made his whole body reverberate. His eyes welled up with tears as he was shown more photos of men in various states of undress, interlaced with those of Elliot. They were always paired with the harshest shocks.

As almost any sane non homophobic person could have guessed, the therapy had done nothing about his feelings for Elliot. His body, mind and soul had created a shield, underneath which his love for him burned like a raging fire. All his hurt, anger and sadness went into the fire, making it burn hotter and more ferociously within him.

The doctor watched his face, making sure he kept his eyes on the screen. He had a red line across his cheek from where Damien had scratched him two days previously. But all that had done was reward himself with more painful shocks. Even when he was released from the chair, he was beginning to develop a tick.

What he hated most about his torture was that mirror. He knew behind it he was being watched, his father was looking in as he paid for his only son to be tortured relentlessly. He wondered if he even thought it would work. On top of this was the fact that the mirror showed himself. It showed him being weakened everyday, restrained. He barely recognised himself, he could see his hollow face, the dark circles under his eyes, his always pale skin was almost an ashy grey, his limbs becoming weak and thin from the drugs and from vomiting up almost all his meals.

Another shock roused him from his thoughts and he groaned, his body shaking violently out of his control as he watched a gay porno play out on screen. The video stopped and so did the shocks, he fell back into the chair, exhausted.

He was released from the chair, but his wrists remained cuffed as he was half escorted half dragged back to his bed to rest off the treatment.

He was awoken shortly after and he was surprised to see no food. Usually this was when he would get a meal. Instead they were getting him out of bed.

"No," he begged in a weak voice. The screaming and shouting having damaged it days earlier. "Please not already."

"You are not going for another treatment Damien, you are having your lunch out here at the table."

He was helped to his feet and he swayed unsteadily. They guided him out of the door and to a table, he was cuffed there too like a prisoner, and a plate put in front of him. The chain on the cuffs gave him just enough movement to eat the food. He ate the food that sat there ravenously with his hands, devouring it like he was a starving animal, which at this point he virtually was.

He was so engrossed in his meal that he did not notice who had entered the room until they sat at the table with him.

The moment he saw his father he attempted to lunge at him, but the cuffs held him back. He grunted and wrestled with the restraints, fury coursing through his veins.

"Hello Damien, I told you this is what would happen if you chose to go against me."

"You son of a bitch, you think I'll ever let you get away with this-"

"Oh, save me the big man talk," he said pushing aside his words with a wave of his hand. "I'll ask for that gag back if you can't handle yourself like a real man."

Damien glared at him, piling every ounce of hatred into his gaze.

"You knew this aversion therapy was bollocks from the start didn't you? It's just some sick joke to you-"

He broke off when he heard the door behind him, whipping his head around. He felt the tick in his neck start up again, an uncontrollable twitch. He wondered if he would have that forever now.

His mother walked in, her face ashen, unable to meet his eyes as she sat at a seat a little away from them. At least she showed signs of guilt for allowing the torturing of her son.

"I'm going to give you a one last chance. I'm making my offer again. Three choices. Do you need a reminder of what they were?"

Damien shook his head, he remembered.

"Good, and just as in incentive," his father said casually. He laid photos one by one on the table before Damien. Harvey and Ella, Mrs Green, Elliot. All the photos looked recent, Elliot in particular looked worse for wear, a lost frightened look in his eyes as he looked out across the street.

"If you choose option 3, know that it isn't just your own life you will be throwing away. It would be a shame if Mrs Green gave the wrong medication to a patient and is found guilty of manslaughter. And such young love," he said holding the image of Harvey and Ella, "it would be a shame if there was... an accident. And then of course our lovely young Elliot... well they do have another room available here at the clinic, perhaps we could see how he does with the therapy?"

"Dont you dare touch him," Damien spat and his father laughed.

"And how do you intend to stop me in your current position. Think carefully through your choices now Damien, you're a smart boy."

He reluctantly thought back on the three options his father had suggested all those days ago in his study.

The first choice had been to sign everything over to his father, to give up his stake in all his business, give up his property, give up anything that his father might try to claim and to start over. The second had been to leave Elliot and never see him again, start a life with a woman, and raise a family. The third had been to go on as normal and face his fathers anger.

He had chosen the third option. If he made that choice again, would he be thrown right back into that room. And for how long? If he had worked the days out correctly he had been here two weeks. If he said no again, his parents may leave him here and travel for India, never to come back.

Then there were the threats on those he loved. He couldn't let Elliot be thrown in here, and Mrs Green would go to prison, and Harvey and Ella had been nothing but good to him. He couldn't let anything happen to any of them.

So if the third option was out what did that leave? A life of nothing, starting from the bottom, no home, no money, or a life without Elliot. It was no competition, a life without Elliot was more unbearable than all the shocks he had recieved over the last two weeks combined. And yet, to sign away everything to the monster before him made him feel sick, as if the drug was being injected into his system all over again.

He looked at his mother who seemed preoccupied by a floral brooch on her jacket. Perhaps avoiding eye contact with him. He longed for her to be a mother like Mrs Green, to rush to him, to hold him in her arms and tell him that everything would be alright.

But she had never and would never be that person.

"Option 1," he whispered.

"I'm sorry?" his father asked, clearly having heard him but enjoying his sons defeat.

"Option 1, you can have it, all of it. As long as I never have to see you ever again, and you will leave us be."

"Of course," he said silkily. He reached down and retrieved a pile of paperwork. "Now all you have to do is sign."

The doctor reentered the room as a witness and watched on as Damien signed properties and businesses all away to his father. When they reached the last one he felt empty, he had nothing left.

"And as far as your treatment, I used what was left of your cash to pay for it and for my expenses keeping it hush hush," he gave him a smug look "you're broke."

He looked at him in pure defeat. He had no home, no money, no job. Everything he was had been stripped from him. He felt naked, the thin hospital gown on his back not helping matters.

His father stood and smiled down at him.

"You've finally done something that makes me proud. I will take care of everything from now on. You are free to go, you are no longer my son."

He walked from the room and his mother followed, turning to give him a tearful look of apology, pain and guilt before the door closed.

He was given a set of grey sweatpants and a black coat, and escorted to the main glass doors, the rain hammered down outside and a cool breeze trickled through the gap in the doors. His hands were uncuffed and the doctor quickly side stepped behind the second set of doors which buzzed closed behind him. Perhaps frightened that Damien would punch him.

But he was far too weak and hollow for that.

"Can I get a cab or something?" He asked and the doctor laughed.

"But you have no money. How would you pay? You will just have to walk."

"Where even are we?" He asked.

"Greenwich," he said and then walked away.

Damien looked out at the dusk and wondered if the rain was likely to pass anytime soon. But the dark clouds looked like they weren't going anywhere. He pushed open the door and stepped out into the rain. Hope gave him strength. He was going to find Elliot, his parents were gone for good. Focus on the positives.

He wondered where was best to go. He couldn't go far, but perhaps he could get to Matched HQ, but by the time he got there they would be shut. Besides Elliot would likely not be there. That left Harvey and Ella's, at least they were somewhere safe, and they could call Elliot. Yes. He trudged off in the rough direction, following the river as his guide. He knew it would be a long walk, but as he breathed in the cool damp air he felt relieved to be finally leaving the clinic.

His hopeful energy buoyed him part of the way, but as he came closer and closer to his destination, exhaustion was hitting him in waves. He felt dizzy as if the medication was still coursing through his veins, and was laughed at as a drunk by passersby as he asked for directions. Eventually he began to recognise street names and knew he was close. He staggered down street after street, barely keeping upright as he shivered, soaked to the bone by the numbing icy rain.

He was on the street now, so close to them that he could practically feel the warmth emanating from their home. He ran his hand against the wall beside him in an attempt to stay upright but still managed to lose his balance, clinging to the wall in desperation.

"'No," he hissed "I'm so... close.."

He saw someone coming towards him and desperately tried to find his feet, his hood fell back and the icy rain slashed his face. He moaned in pain and fought the urge to pass out, he had to get to them, just a little further.

"Hey, are you okay?"

The voice felt like another electric shock, but this one was not to his body, but to his very being. Could it be? After all the hell and torture and pain, had Elliot finally found him?

He heard the footsteps get closer and he knew it was him, he could feel the calm aura washing over him that Elliot always gave him. He slowly looked up and saw the shocked face, his beautiful bright blue eyes ringed with dark circles were wide in disbelief.

"Elliot," he breathed in relief, feeling the first smile in weeks break unconsciously onto his lips, and then the exhaustion finally consumed him.

*

He awoke groggily and felt a momentary panic that he was back in the clinic, but then relaxed. He recognised the room as Harvey and Ella's spare bedroom, he was safe. His eyes moved round to the armchair pulled up beside him. Elliot sat in the chair, his head lolling back against the headrest, his eyes closed and snoring ever so softly, a book lay on the floor as if it had slipped from his fingertips hours ago.

Damien lay back his head against the pillows and watched Elliot sleep. He smiled. He loved watching him sleep, he preferred it when he was resting his head on his chest, but even so he looked so peaceful his long lashes splayed on his cheeks, his mouth open slightly in an 'o', his golden hair tousled and shining where it caught the light. He remembered their last night together, he had laid awake for hours just watching his face. It felt so good to have it back in front of him. His stomach felt a wave of nausea, a memory of the therapy, but he pushed it down. Nothing would ruin this moment for him.

The bedroom door creaked open and Ella's face appeared, her eyes lit up as she saw he was awake.

"Hey!" She said, but Damien quickly put his finger to his lips, gesturing to Elliot who stirred but didnt wake. She eyed him sleeping and nodded, creeping quietly to sit beside him on the bed. She handed him a cup of soup which he took gratefully, his stomach growling.

"How are you feeling? You've been asleep for almost 24 hours," she whispered, her face a picture of concern and worry.

"I'm okay, at least much better than I was."

"We had an ambulance here, they said that the best thing for you right now was to be somewhere familiar, to get warm and to sleep. They thought you would be better off here than in the hospital, apparently your head would has already healed up well enough to not need more treatment."

He grimaced, "yes that was seen to not long after."

"What happened to you?" She asked and Damien sighed.

"I'd rather only have to tell it once if that's okay," he said and she nodded understandingly. Elliot made a noise and shuffled in his chair, groaning and frowning in his sleep. They both turned to look at him.

"It's good to see him sleeping, he hasn't slept in days. He did everything he could to try and track you down."

Damien felt his heart squeeze tightly in his chest. He felt guilt for the pain he had caused Elliot by starting this mess with his father. If he had just let them be and never invited them...

Elliot mumbled something and sighed, then his eyes fluttered open and found him immediately. Those bright blue eyes stunned him momentarily, he had forgotten just how incredible they were.

"Damien," he whispered, falling forward from the chair towards him. He took his hand that lay above the bed and pressed it to his face. He saw tears welling up in his eyes and felt his love for him burning hot in his chest, in his throat, choking him. The therapy had not worked, he knew that, but to feel like his love had grown he had not expected or thought possible. It was painful in its intensity. His own eyes stung and to his surprise he felt tears forming.

He laughed incredulously and Elliot's head shot up. He stared at him again, as if drinking in he was actually here and then leaned forward to kiss him. The feeling was ecstatic, even in his weak state, he felt energised by Elliot's lips on his.

"I'll let you two have a moment," Ella said tactfully and left the room. Elliot threw his arms over his chest and buried his face into him.

"I can't believe you're finally back," he said his voice muffled.

"I can't either," he said, running his hand through Elliot's golden hair, it was so beautiful. They stayed like that for a while, just holding each other.

"Why," Elliot said eventually, lifting his head and fixing those eyes on him. "Why were you out there walking in the rain and the dark, on your own? Where have you been?"

Damien sighed, he didn't want to relive the past two weeks but the people he cared about deserved to know. But be dammed if he was going to tell the story twice.

Elliot returned with Ella and Harvey in tow. Ella gave him a reassuring smile, Harvey was pale and tight lipped but gave him a curt nod. They settled themselves in the room, Elliot was closest, kneeling beside the bed with his hand holding his tightly, his gaze on his face. He wasn't going to miss a word.

"So I guess I'll start at the beginning," he said feeling the weight of the words in his chest. He found a patch of peeling wallpaper across from him and focused on it, intent on getting it all out. "The night after Elliot and his family left my parents disappeared for some dinner appointment. I knew something was up but I didn't know what. I called you," he glanced at Elliot who smiled encouragingly, "and then went to bed. I woke up a few hours later to loud noises and went downstairs. I found my father in the study, it was trashed and he was screaming about business stuff and... and about the article they wrote back during the Matched hacking. He was so angry and told me I had three choices: To give up everything I had, the houses, my investements, or to leave Elliot," his voice cracked slightly but he remained focused on the wall, feeling his eyes burning into him. "To leave him and marry a proper woman of my own class. Or to carry on and know he would do anything he could to prevent it."

"So you chose option three, naturally," Harvey sighed and Damien nodded.

"Yes. The moment I did he, he threw something... I can't really remember it was such a blur."

"It was the whiskey decanter," Elliot whispered, his voice was thin and his face pale.

"Well whatever it was knocked me out," he lifted his hand to the side of his head and felt the wound, the stitches still in place. "When I woke up I was in this... place," he swallowed painfully. "It was a clinic that specialised in aversion therapies."